Sign Posts for the Weary Wild Soul

As some of you know I attended a Buddhist meditation retreat from January 4th to January 11th. My experience there was incredible! I’m going to write it all up, but I’m going to break into a few different installments. So here’s the first! Anything in italics is a direct quote from my journal.

Sunday January 4th, 2008

I’m still a bit bleary from the last week’s events as we pull up to the retreat. My escort is a friend I’ve known since elementary school, but who I really only got to know these last few days. He was my New Year’s kiss. He gave me a ride at the suggestion of my yoga teacher/massage thereapist/friend Kelli’s suggestion that I have him pick me up. So here we are, pulling up to Spirit Rock and he’s telling me some ridiculous (and LONG) story about some ex-girlfriend’s friend’s golf cart that caught on fire somehow. I am nervous and can’t possibly concentrate.
“I’m sorry. I can’t focus on a story right now,” I say, sounding a bit short. Not only am I nervous, but I’m also late. The window of time I have to arrive at the retreat, according to the website, was 3:30-5:30. As we pull up it is 5:25. We drive right past the booth, as my friend, DJ, assumes I know where I’m going. I don’t. This has me slightly miffed but I realize it’s not his fault. Finally, we find parking and I figure out where I’m supposed to go back asking around a bit. DJ helps me load my luggage onto a hand cart, we embrace, say some parting words, and I walk on up the hill towards the residence halls.
The January air is chillier than I expected it to be. I packed in a hurry because for some reason, I couldn’t seem to get my ass in gear that morning. I had two tasks to consider: getting my house cleaned up (my parents had been gone for 4 days) and getting myself ready to leave for a week. I put my focus on the house and packed in about fifteen minutes. Walking up the hill I realize I’ve forgotten my rain coat. But too late now, here I am.
I’m late enough that the retreat managers are going to go have dinner, without telling me which room is mine. So I head down to the dining hall where a nice warm soup and a salad are being served. I sit across from an older man with glasses, and beside a woman, who’s probably in her late forties or early fifties. I ask her name and we begin talking. The usual, where are you from?, what do you do?, what brought you here? She tells me she is surprised that everyone is talking. Here, the man across the table jumps in, “Just wait till tomorrow. You’ll be able to hear a pin drop in here.” And I think to myself: Wait, you mean this retreat is silent?? But the two people I’m talking to seem to think this is the norm, so I don’t ask, not wanting to look like the newbie I am to this whole “meditation retreat” thing.
Later that night I meet my roommate and we talk briefly (the last we would speak until the last night and day of the retreat). Her name is Erikah, and she is one year older than me, transferring, coincidentally to SF state this semester. This is her third retreat. Time to write…

I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I signed up for this…for starters I didn’t realize it’s a silent retreat, and yet here I am “god” tricked me into it… Leaving the meditation hall tonight in silence I felt this huge relief…not to have to make eye contact with anyone, not to have to smile! What a concept!
I’m really glad Kelli gave me the idea of asking DJ to give me a ride.

January 5th, 2008 Day 1

I can’t believe I just got up at 5:30 at a retreat—to a clanging bell, a jarring, obnoxious, clanging bell at that. Doesn’t the word “retreat” sound like it should be some kind of vacation? I’m going to meditate at 6:00am. This is crazy.
After eating breakfast, I decide it’s a good time to write as we have a little free time before the next “sit” (that’s what they call the seated meditation periods, of which there are 7 daily, in forty-five minute intervals, interspersed with walking meditations, meals, one dharma talk, one yoga class and one brief instruction period in the morning…I love how they put “rest, or further practice” at the end of the day, as though anyone would want to continue meditating when the cozy residence halls are now an option).

One memory that comes to me fairly often from CSSSA was when the author, whose name escapes me, of The Year of Yes, was there. After her talk I went up to her and asked what advice she had for an aspiring author besides, “Read a lot, write a lot.” As she handed back the book she had just signed for me, she looked me in the eyes and said, “Live.”
If nothing else, after this I’ll be able to say I’ve been to a Buddhist Meditation Retreat.

Looking down at my writing I realize how unsightly it is, and that to have nicer handwriting all I have to do is be mindful. The next time I write, I’ll slow down a bit.
During the morning instruction period Heather Martin, one of the teachers here, began explaining what “metta meditation” is. I’ve attempted vippassana before, the constant holding-at-bay of one’s thoughts but it never works. I’m way too rajasik (monkey mind) for that.
In metta, she explains, we work with four phrases which each individual can shape to their liking. The four phrases are:

May I feel safe
May I be at peace
May my body be strong
May I live with ease

I begin saying the phrases over and over again, as instructed, for myself. Throughout the retreat, we are told, we will work with different people by changing the pronouns, but for the first few days focus on you; if you can, wish yourself well. As I say the phrases images begin to form in my mind for each line. For safety, I see myself curled up in the snow in the forest, peacefully sleeping. For peace, I see myself meditating at the cabin overlooking a beautiful vista. For strength, I see myself dripping sweat in a yoga class, attaining a pose I’ve never done before, but dream of achieving. And for living my life with ease I see myself floating with the current in a river, or arms spread wide singing out in the open.
At the end of the day it’s time to write again.

So far I don’t know what I think of all this meditating. I mean I can understand the value in doing it some to become mindful of things, like how quickly I eat, or how unnecessary it is to talk all the time, but this is seriously like meditating all day long and I keep thinking about the books I could be reading or the things I could be getting done at home. The meditation hall kind of reminds me of preschool with everyone on cushions with blankets.
I have to say this has been like the longest day ever, I did get up at 5:30 and is now past 9:00, but still it feels long. Maybe because I’ve been aware for more of it than usual. I keep thinking about what Grandpa would think of this. How silly it is to sit around doing nothing and act like it’s something special—sacred even. Is he right?